Sunday Poem

Being In Time

Scotland, St. Andrews – cricket chirp of electric watch,
cry of waking gull. A far church sounds a sweet bell seven
times. Quiet. Now the near Presbyterian Kirk’s seven, –

up, up,
up, up,
up, up, up.

no going back
cliff-face-climb in front,
beneath, the indifferent sea

Sitting backwards on a train – rain, low gray fog. Distant
cathedral resolving into stand of poplars. Smoke from a sudden stack
disappears into low cloud. Now stack gone along with hedgerows,
houses, and field, field, field of sheep – the where you have just been
unknowing, always unrolling before your eyes.
by Nils Peterson